Chapter 4 - Ruby
The kitchen is warm and cozy, filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate as I watch Tommy carefully place chocolate chips on top of each cookie dough ball. His little tongue sticks out in concentration, determined to make these treats perfect for our neighbors.
"Do you think Mr. Joey likes chocolate chips, Mommy?" he asks, placing another chip.
"I think everyone likes chocolate chips, baby." I smooth his hair back, marveling at how peaceful he seems today.
No nightmares last night, no jumping at sudden noises. The new door locks have given us both a sense of security we desperately needed.
The late morning sun streams through the kitchen window, creating patterns on our worn linoleum floor. It's almost noon, and soon, we'll have fresh cookies to deliver. I'm not overthinking the fact that I put on mascara this morning or that I chose my nicest sweater—the blue one that actually fits instead of drowning me in fabric.
The peaceful moment shatters with the first bang on the door.
"Open up, you fucking bitch!"
The color drains from my face as Derek's voice booms through our house. Tommy drops the chocolate chip in his hand, his eyes going wide with fear.
"I know you're in there! You think some fancy locks can keep me out? You think that biker trash is gonna protect you?"
My hands shake as I lift Tommy off the chair. "Baby, go to your room. Remember our safe place?"
He nods, already trembling. We practiced this in Oregon—the closet with his dinosaurs, staying quiet until Mommy comes to get him.
"But what about you?" he whispers.
"I'll be fine, baby. Go now. Quick and quiet, just like we practiced."
The pounding gets louder. I hear wood splintering—he's trying to break down the door. The locks might be military-grade, but the frame is still old wood.
"You're alone now! Your fucking bodyguard isn't here to save you!"
As soon as Tommy disappears down the hallway, I grab my phone from the counter. Joey's number is still on speed dial. My finger shakes as I press it, praying he'll answer.
One ring. Two rings. Three—
"Yeah?" His gruff voice sends relief flooding through me.
"Joey?" I hate how small my voice sounds. "He's here. Derek. He's trying to break down the door."
"Motherfucker," Joey growls. More banging, more splintering wood. "Where's Tommy?"
"Safe place. In his closet."
"Good girl. I'm ten minutes out. Keep talking to me."
I clutch the phone tighter, backing away from the door. "He's breaking through. The locks are holding but the frame's giving way."
"Is there a back door?"
"Yes, but it's locked too."
"Keep it that way. Where are you?"
"Kitchen." Another crash makes me jump. "Joey, he's got a weapon. I can see something in his hand through the window."
"Listen to me carefully, Ruby." His voice is steady, calming. I hear a motorcycle engine roaring through the phone. "Go to the kitchen counter. Far right drawer. Now."
I follow his instructions, confused. "Okay?"
"There's a gun taped under it. Our locksmith put it there yesterday. You know how to use one?"
My hands shake as I feel under the drawer. Sure enough, my fingers touch cold metal.
"My... my dad taught me. Basic stuff."
"Good. Get it out. Just having it might be enough to scare him off until I get there."
The door frame splinters further. Derek's face appears in the gap he's created, twisted with rage.
"I see you in there, you worthless cunt! Running to your new boyfriend already? I'll kill him too!"
"Joey..." My voice breaks as I pull the gun free from its tape. It's smaller than I expected but feels impossibly heavy in my hand.
"I hear him. Three minutes out."
"I don’t know what to do..."
"If Derek gets through before I arrive, and if he comes at you..." Joey's voice turns deadly serious. "You shoot him. Center mass. Don't hesitate."
The door frame gives way with a final crack. Derek stumbles through, wielding what looks like a tire iron. His eyes are wild, pupils blown—he's high on something. The Derek I first met would never touch drugs. This person in front of me is a stranger.
"Found yourself a new man already?" he snarls, advancing slowly. "Some old biker who probably can't even get it up anymore?"
I back away, keeping the counter between us. The gun remains hidden behind my back.
"Leave now, Derek. Please. Don't make this worse."
He laughs, an ugly sound. "Worse? You destroyed my life! Left me for no reason, took up with criminal trash—"
"You hit me," I say, finding strength in my anger. "You terrorized my son. You're the only trash here."
"Shut up!" He lunges forward, tire iron raised.
I bring up the gun, clicking off the safety just like Dad taught me. "Stop right there."
Derek freezes, his eyes going wide. "You wouldn't."
"Try me." My voice steadies, my hands stop shaking. "I have nothing left to lose when it comes to you."
A motorcycle's roar grows closer, and Derek's head snaps toward the sound. Fear flashes across his face.
"Fucking bitch," he spits, but he's backing away now. "This isn't over."
"Yes, it is."
Joey's voice comes from behind Derek, and I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life. He fills the doorway, leather cut bearing traces of what looks like smoke, face promising violence.
Derek spins around, tire iron still raised, but he doesn't even get to swing. Joey's fist connects with his jaw with a sickening crack, sending him sprawling across my kitchen floor.
"I thought I made myself clear yesterday," Joey says, his voice terrifyingly calm as he advances on Derek's prone form. "About what would happen if you came back."
Derek tries to scramble away, blood dripping from his mouth.
"I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking—"
"No, you weren't." Joey kicks the tire iron away, then places his boot on Derek's throat. "And now you never will again."
"Joey," I say softly, still holding the gun. "Tommy's in the house."
Something flickers in Joey's eyes—a war between violence and restraint. Finally, he eases his boot off Derek's throat.
"You've got two options," he tells Derek. "Option one: you leave town tonight. Never come back. Never contact Ruby or Tommy again. Forget they exist. Option two..." He smiles, and it's the scariest thing I've ever seen. "Well, let's just say the police are really bad at finding bodies in this county."
Derek's face goes pale. "I'll leave! I swear!"
"Good choice." Joey hauls him up by his collar. "Wrath and Crow are outside. They'll make sure you pack and get on the highway. If you're not past the county line by sunset..." He leaves the threat hanging.
Two more bikers appear in my doorway, their cuts bearing the same patches as Joey's. They grab Derek, who's still babbling promises and apologies, and drag him out.
As soon as they're gone, my legs give out. The gun clatters to the counter as I sink to the floor, adrenaline leaving me in a rush that makes me dizzy.
Joey is beside me instantly, those deadly hands surprisingly gentle as they check me for injuries. "You hurt?"
I shake my head. "Tommy," I manage to say. "He's in his closet."
"I'll get him."
"No, I should—" I try to stand but my legs won't cooperate.
"Let me," he says softly. "Tell me where."
"Second bedroom. Behind the dinosaurs."
He disappears down the hall, and moments later I hear Tommy's relieved cry of "Mr. Joey!" followed by running feet. Then my baby is in my arms, clinging to me as I clutch him close.
"The bad man's gone?" he asks against my neck.
"Forever this time," Joey answers, watching us with an unreadable expression. "I promise."
I look up at him, this dangerous man who keeps saving us, and see something shift in his eyes when they meet mine. Something that makes my heart beat faster despite my fear and exhaustion.
"The cookies burned," Tommy says suddenly, and a slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up from my chest.
"We'll make more," I tell him, pressing a kiss to his hair.
"I'll fix the door frame," Joey says, already examining the damage. "And this time, I'm installing a security system. Cameras, motion sensors, the works."
"Joey, I can't afford—"
"Wasn't asking." His tone brooks no argument. "Consider it a housewarming gift."
I should protest. Should maintain some boundaries, some distance from this man who lives in a world of violence I can barely comprehend. But when he looks at me again, something warm and protective in his gaze, I find myself nodding.
"Thank you," I whisper.
He grunts in acknowledgment, but I catch the slight softening around his eyes.
"You did good today. Kept your head, protected your kid." He pauses. "Looked damn good with a gun, too."
Heat floods my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. Tommy giggles, apparently recovered from his fright.
"Mommy's a superhero too!"
This time, Joey does smile, and it transforms his whole face. It makes him look younger, softer somehow.
"Yeah, kid. I guess she is."
And sitting there on my kitchen floor, holding my son while a dangerous man promises to keep us safe – a man who’s now going outside to check on Derek, I realize I'm way over my head.
But maybe, just maybe, that's exactly where I want to be.